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Tad Lincoln: 

A True Story 


12 Mo.— Boards Net 75c. 
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Seems to Know 

that Tad Lincoln, the Martyr 
President's youngest son and 
the petted "Child of the 
Nation," was also 

A Martyr 

to his unswerving loyalty in 
keeping a 

Mizpah Pledge 

he had made with his father. 
This new and 

1 rue Lincoln Story 

is filled with vivid episodes, 
several of which Tad's own 
brother had never even 
heard of. 

George Sully & Company 

114 East 25th Street New York 

Tad Lincoln: 

A True Story 





the Class of 1901 

founded by 





Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2012 with funding from 

University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 


Tad Lincoln: 

A True Story 







Copyright, 1926, by 
George Sully & Company 

Printed in U. S. A. 


"What Became of Little Tad?" 
Is the question which has been 
asked more than any other about the 
Lincoln family. Two generations 
ago Tad Lincoln was as well known 
throughout the country as his mother 
or his brother Robert; but, because 
of his confusing nickname some have 
thought -that he died as did Willie 
during the Lincolns' first year in the 
White House, or that Tad was the 
pet name for Robert, who entered 
Harvard as the President's son, and 
studied law, and has since served his 
country as Secretary of War and 
Ambassador to Great Britain. 

There could be no better proof 
than these actual episodes in the 


midst of all the out-of-character 
stories fabricated about Abraham 
Lincoln nowadays that " Truth is 
more wonderful than fiction." 

During many years of research in 
order to reproduce the life, "of the 
people, by the people, for the people" 
Lincoln so tenderly loved, it has been 
the writer's rare fortune to stumble 
upon three true stories of which even 
his brother Robert was not aware. 

The adventure of the boy's re- 
venge on the Secretary of War was 
vividly described by the White 
House guard who afterwards be- 
came a well-known physician in 
Cleveland, Ohio. 

The story of Tad and his mother 
in Germany, and the love of the 
little princess who became the last of 



the Czarinas was related by the son 
of the American dentist to whose 
daughter Tad gave his youthful af- 
fection in preference to Alix of 
Hesse, the granddaughter of Queen 

Yet because of the terrible tur- 
moil and the hatred engendered by 
the tragedy over which the people 
"Wept with the passion of an angry 
grief," no one seems to have realized 
until recently that the last words 
spoken by the Martyr Chief to his 
beloved people were — 

"Play Dixie boys! — Give us Dixie/' 



A LONELY boy stood a long 
time gazing out between 
k the thick iron rods of the 
great closed gate forming 
the northern entrance to the White 
House. A group of gamins stopped 
and stared at him. 

"That's Tad Lincoln," said one of 
the street Arabs, nudging the next 
boy. "Used to be a brother Willie, 
but he's kicked the bucket." 

"Hello, Tad," shouted another 
boy— "hel-lor 

Tad did not answer, he looked sus- 
picious, yet wistful. 

"Cayn't yuh talk?" sneered the 


dirtiest of the gang. "Cat gotcha 

"Don't," murmured the decent- 
looking boy — "don't! He can't — 
not plain, anyway. Something the 

"Oho!" shoflted the Arab chief. 
"Let's get 'im mad and make 'im 
holler. Then we'll have fun with 

All but the decent lad joined in 
a chorus of jeers that made the Lin- 
coln boy's chubby face turn scarlet. 
Still he stood with his fat fists 
clenched, and his cherubic lips pressed 

A soldier — one of the guard sta- 
tioned at the Executive Mansion — 
walked slowly by, outside the gate, 
and stopped, respectfully saluting 



the President's son, without paying 
heed, apparently, to the other boys. 
They hesitated, but watchfully stood 
their ground. The guard, stooping 
to speak to Tad — jumped, grabbed 
the freckled ringleader's arm and 
jerked him up to the gate. The 
other boys ran across the street while 
their captured leader kicked and 
struggled in vain. 

"What shall we do to him?" the 
guard asked Tad. 

The President's son twisted and 
turned, eying the toe of his little top 
boot, as he rubbed it back and forth 
in the sand, but he did not answer. 

"Shall we let him off this time?" 

Tad smiled and nodded. 

The soldier assumed a fierce ex- 
pression and spoke sternly, loud 


enough for the boys across the street 
to hear — 

"Skedaddle — you and all your 
plug-uglies! And if I ever catch 
you annoying Tad Lincoln again I'll 
take you up and cart you all off to 
the calaboose." 

Once out of his captor's grip the 
freckled chief landed, with one jump, 
in the middle of the street, then 
turned back to shout: 

"Think you're turrble smart, 
doncher?" The rest of the gang be- 
gan to dance about and sing: 

"Tad! Tad! He's awful bad 
And I'm agoin' to tell his dad!" 

In those days it was considered 
an insult to refer to one's father as 



The Lincoln lad, paying no further 
heed, turned about and dragged his 
heels toward the north entrance of 
the Mansion. 

Thomas Pendel, doorkeeper of the 
White House, admitted the boy and 
noticed his sad face. 

"Why, Taddie!" he exclaimed, 
"what's the matter?" 

"Tom Pen," answered the boy, 
"I'm tired of playing by myself. I 
want to play together." 

"Poor Taddie!" murmured the 
doorkeeper. "You do miss Willie, 
don't you? Wouldn't those boys play 
with you?" 

Tad shook his head. 

"What did they say?" 

The head shook again. 

"What did he say to them?" 



A smile, but no reply. 

"What did he do to that boy?" 

The lad looked up warily and 
grinned, as if to say, "If you know all 
about it, why ask so many questions?" 

Then, by force of habit, Tad 
turned toward his father's office. 

"Wouldn't go in there, Taddie," 
pleaded the doorkeeper. "Cabinet's 
in session, you know." 

Without paying the least heed, 
Tad went in — bumping the door with 
his new boot in lieu of a knock. 

The Cabinet was deep in a dis- 
cussion, but the boy marched straight 
over to the President, who sat in a 
swivel chair at the head of the long 
table, and began quavering to his 
father as if they two were there 
alone — 



"Papa-day, I'm tired !" 

The President responded as if 
there were no one else in the room — 

"Tired, Taddie, tired?'' 

No one knew the origin of "Papa- 
day," the boy's name for his father, 
just as no one knew how he came to 
be called "Tad." 

"Yeh, I'm tired of playing by my- 
helf — [myself]. Tad had a cleft 
palate and could not pronounce "S" 
properly. "I want hum — [some] 
one to — " 

The Secretary of War, with a 
shock of iron gray hair and a beard 
which looked like a lion's mane, had 
snorted when Tad broke into their 
conference, now looked about in ex- 
asperation, apparently hoping to 
lead the other Secretaries in a mutiny 



against the President. That snort 
was not lost on Tad, but he did not 
pay special attention to it at that 
time. The President also observed the 
signs of dissatisfaction, but they only 
made him bend over his afflicted boy 
with an expression of ineffable 

Many seemed to have difficulty 
in understanding Tad, and this 
exasperated the child. The Bible 
speaks of understanding with the 
heart. The heart of "Father Abra- 
ham" understood Tad's every word 
— even before it was uttered. 

"But, Taddie," the President de- 
murred, "I can't go now. I've got 
to play jest a leetle longer with Gov- 
ernor Seward and his little play- 



Tad's eyes turned toward Secre- 
tary Stanton, who was still shrug- 
ging his shoulders and casting indig- 
nant glances toward the other Secre- 
taries — but they, quickly melted by 
the President's mood, were smiling 
kindly at the boy. 

"Run along now," said Mr. Lin- 
coln, "I'll come out just as soon as 
I can." 

But Tad flung himself down at his 
father's feet like a watchdog, to see 
what was going on. Provoked past 
all patience, Mr. Stanton's mane 
bristled and his eyes snapped as he 
blurted out — 

"Where is that boy's mother? For 
one, I protest, Mr. President — " 

"Tad," said Mr. Lincoln coolly, 



"go tell your mother that the Secre- 
tary of War — " 

"Never mind that — " snarled 
Stanton, looking angrily around at 
the other members who were all 
laughing. "I only meant, Mr, 
Pres— " 

"With these remarks we will dis- 
miss the subject," said the President 
with a grim smile and a peremptory 
tone new to him, "and proceed with 
the business before — and not behind! 
— this house." 

Tad, who had started up at his 
father's request, now stood, per- 
plexed and irresolute. What did 
that man mean by speaking of his 
mother, and why did they all laugh? 
As no one seemed to pay further at- 
tention to him, he darted a look of 



resentment toward the War Secre- 
tary and sank again beside his 
father's chair. 

On other occasions he had fallen 
asleep during their long discussions, 
but today his wrath kept him awake. 
He had never relished Mr. Stanton's 
snappish remarks to his father, but 
today he watched the irate Secretary 
like a lynx at bay. The more he ob- 
served and thought of that man's 
manner, the more he became con- 
vinced that something ought to be 
done to him! 

When the session adjourned, the 
last Secretary to leave — as always! — 
was Stanton. Tad sometimes thought 
the man kept staying and staying and 
talking and talking just to spite him. 
The South door had hardly closed 



behind the War Secretary before 
Tad was taking his father to task. 

"Papa-day," he began, "why don't 
you take that 'Tanton over your 
knee and give him a good 'pankin'?" 

Mr. Lincoln burst out laughing at 
the novelty of the idea. 

"Why, Taddie," he pleaded, with 
a wide smile, "you mustn't mind 
Brother Stanton. He's such a good 
man that I'm always willing to put 
up with his odd ways for the great 
good he can do the country. We 
can't win the war without Stanton." 

A boy convinced against his will 
is of the same opinion still. Tad 
shook his head vehemently and set 
his teeth, but dropped the subject. 

"You hed [said] you'd play with 
me," was his next rejoinder. 



"All right— I'm here. What'll we 

With a blood-curdling yell, the 
Great White Chief snatched his boy 
up and set him on one shoulder, then 
on the other. Tad seized his father's 
shock of coarse black hair with both 
hands, and slid down pickaback, 
while his human steed pranced and 
champed about, letting out a series 
of whoops worthy of a Comanche on 
the warpath. Tad soon forgot about 
Stanton and all his other troubles, as 
he gurgled and squealed — "Papa- 
day! O, Papa-day!" 

The President seemed to throw off 
the cares of state and the worries of 
the war while leaping and capering 
through the spacious chambers of the 



Executive Mansion. A White House 
lifeguard wrote, years afterward, 
that the only happy moments Abra- 
ham Lincoln seemed to enjoy were 
while playing horse, Indian and 
soldier with "Little Tad," the name 
by which the Child of the Nation was 
popularly known, even after he had 
grown to be a tall youth. 

Within a week after that Cabinet 
meeting Tad offered to help the head 
gardener water the South lawn 
with the hose, to which was attached 
a newly invented nozzle variation. 
With the delight of an imaginative 
child, Tad played that the White 
House was on fire, and by turning 
the nozzle this way and that, learned 
how to make it sprinkle and spray, 
and do a sudden spurt, then turn into 



a steady stream. While he was thus 
experimenting, who should burst out 
of the South door and come stamping 
down the long, curved stairway from 
the South Portico, but the Secretary 
of War? He kept turning back to 
brandish a paper at the President, 
who was following and fatuously 
struggling to appease Mr, Stanton's 
blustering wrath. 

The President had just written a 
dispatch to be sent to the front, for- 
bidding a certain young soldier to 
be shot next day, and the exasperated 
Secretary of War was still menacing 
him with a telegram from General 
Butler, beseeching the President not 
to interfere with the regular order, 
in this case, as it would further de- 
moralize the discipline of the army. 



As he descended to the lawn, ready 
to cut across the grass, as usual, to 
the War Department, Stanton made 
a final stand for a Parthian shot — 

"I tell you, Mr. President, if this 
don't stop — " 

Bzt! — a spurt through the new 
nozzle attachment knocked that 
paper out of the Secretary's hand and 
sent it fluttering down the grass, and 
a firm stream struck the astounded 
functionary full in the face, then 
played steadily up and down his 
shuddering form. Stanton stood 
gurgling, gasping and strangling, 
hardly uttering a medley of sub- 
limated profanity while making 
frantic clutches in the direction of the 
grinning cause of his sudden discom- 



Even Abraham Lincoln had to 
laugh at the sorry spectacle of his 
would-be-terrible Secretary of War 
with his habitually bristling mane 
wet down like a disconsolate poodle's, 
as he stood there, shivering in the 
midst of a compulsory bath. 

"Gannon! Captain Gannon!" 
shouted the President to one of the 
soldier-guard. "Take that hose away 
from the boy!" 

As the soldier sprang at Tad, he, 
being no respecter of persons, turned 
the hose on the guard, then dropped 
it and started to run. 

"You little skeezicks!" Gannon 
yelled as he chased the boy down the 
slippery lawn, and finally grabbed 
him by the tail of his jacket. Fall- 
ing on one knee, he turned Tad 



across the other, as he muttered 
through clenched teeth: 

"There! I'll teach you [spank] to 
turn the hose [spank, spank] on the 
Secretary of War [spank, spank, 
spank] and on me, too, you little 
villain!" [spank, spank, spariketty- 

"There, Captain, I reckon that's 
about enough," shouted the Presi- 
dent, coming down the steps. 
"Thank you! — Say, Gannon, as you 
go to change your clothes, won't you 
please take the boy to his mother or 
some one in the house? He's all wet, 

As the angry young soldier, still 
glaring in righteous wrath, led the 
lad through the basement door, Mr. 



Lincoln smiled and said to the Secre- 

"You ought to make Gannon a 
colonel for that!" 

Stanton, still shivering, replied 
with the raucous rant of a be- 
leaguered walrus : 

"I'd like to put that boy in the 

"No, Stanton, that would do more 
harm than good, I know it's mean 
to give you advice at such a time, but 
can't you see that you're to blame for 
this whole business? You've kept 
that boy's blood at the boiling point 
for several weeks, now. He doesn't 
like the way you talk to me. The 
other day you made a bad matter 
worse by what he thought was a sneer 
at his mother. He didn't understand 



what it meant, but he knew it must 
be all wrong, simply because you did 
it! After you went out that day he 
asked me why I didn't take you 
across my knee and give you a good 
spanking — and just because I 
laughed at the idea then, he has taken 
matters into his own hands — and now 
he's got the spanking! 

"Let me give you a little fatherly 
counsel. You know as well as I do 
that men are just boys of larger 
growth. The Wise Man says, you 
know, that he that ruleth his spirit 
is stronger than he that taketh a city. 
You're getting yourself disliked on 
all sides by fuming and swearing at 
everybody, and Tad isn't the only 
person who resents some of the things 
you say about me. I don't mind it 



on my own account, but I can't bear 
to see you do yourself such an in- 
justice. The habit seems to be grow- 
ing on you. For your own sake, Stan- 
ton, as well as for the sake of the 
army and the nation, won't you try 
to exercise jest a leetle more self- 
control? If you can make that boy 
your friend, you will be better able 
to win the war and save the Union." 

Edwin M. Stanton forgot Tad 
and even the sorry plight he was in, 
as he seized the hand of his chief and 
said fervently — 

"I believe you're right, Mr. Presi- 
dent, I believe you're right." 

Tad soon re-appeared in a dry suit, 
but there was a gleam in his dark 
eye that boded no good to a heart- 
less parent who was capable of look- 



ing on and laughing while he was 
being pommeled in the most humiliat- 
ing manner by the nearest soldier. 

Mr. Lincoln was leaving the office 
when the boy entered. 

"That Gannon hadn' no right to 
'pank me," he said with an accusing 

"Well," argued his father, "you 
had no right to turn the hose on him ; 
and it was still worse for you to soak 
Mr. Stanton. He is a frail man and 
far from well; so you might have 
given him his death o' cold drench- 
ing him the way you did. 

"What Mr. Stanton was saying to 
me was for the real good of the army 
and the best interests of the country. 
Taddie, it's so hard for 'Papa-day' 
to have to be the one to decide what 



to do every time. Yet I can't bear 
to let a poor boy get shot just for 
being sleepy or not doing some little 
thing or other. I think how your 
mother would feel if that was her 

"It don't seem like I can stand this 
strain much longer. If there's any- 
one out of hell that suffers more than 
your papa does, I pity him from the 
bottom of my heart." 

The President sank into a chair 
beside the long table, buried his face 
in his great hands, and shook with 
uncontrolled sobbing. Tad burst into 
tears. In his queer way he idolized 
his big playfellow. Choking with 
grief for his own thoughtless misdeed, 
he climbed up and threw his arms 
around his father's neck, and whim- 



pered from his own bursting heart: 
"Papa-day, I didn' know — I didn' 
under' tan' — I'll never hoak [soak] 
that 'Tanton again!" 

"That's right, my boy. You do 
your part and I'll try to do mine. 
You and Stanton and I will win the 
war and save the Union yet. You're 
a big help to 'Papa-day,' Taddie — 
yes, you are! And we mustn't be too 
hard on poor old Stanton. You see, 
he hasn't any little boy to help him, 
so he has a lot to learn about boys, 
and we'll have to bear in mind that 
there's a great deal that we don't 
know. You and I will have to learn 
to forgive other folks for what they 
don't know." 



For a while Tad Lincoln won- 
dered what had come over the Secre- 
tary of War. No more snorting or 
shrugging of shoulders. At first the 
White House boy eyed with suspi- 
cion the strange overtures of his erst- 
while enemy, but the fault-finding 
Secretary was bringing forth fruits 
meet for repentance. One day Tad 
burst into the Executive Office in a 
beaming smile and a brand-new uni- 
form — cap, gauntlets and sword. 
Cabinet was in session, as usual; and 
all the other Secretaries stared at 
Stanton with curious brows; but in- 
stead of his regulation sniff, he 
seemed to regard the habitual nui- 
sance with unfeigned delight. When 
the President, with a proper show of 
amazement, asked Tad where he got 



his soldier suit, the lad turned and 
looked in silent gratitude toward the 
Secretary of War. 

"Lieutenant Thomas Lincoln, 
gentlemen," said Stanton with genu- 
ine pride, while introducing the 
young officer to the group. 

The President's face was a quizzi- 
cal complex of humor and serious- 
ness. The caustic Secretary had 
taken his lecture deeply to heart. 
Edwin M. Stanton's obdurate spirit 
was the gnarliest knot that Abraham 
Lincoln had to split in the tough log 
of his administration; so, what he had 
said to Tad about being a big help 
in winning the war had turned out 
to be literally true. 

Lieutenant Tad gravely saluted 
the President and all his aids, wind- 



ing up with the Secretary of War 
now recognized as his superior in 
rank. When the lad had retreated 
in good order there was moisture in 
the deep, gray eyes of Abraham 

After this little episode the Wash- 
ington newspapers often recorded 
that "the President and Lieut. Tad 
Lincoln were present" at this mili- 
tary event or that social affair. And 
the Lincolns, father and son, were 
even more constant in their compan- 
ionship than before. One afternoon 
while the boy lieutenant was waiting 
to become a member of the Presi- 
dent's escort to a certain public func- 
tion, he saw his father engaged in 
comforting a weeping mother who 
had collapsed at his feet and was con- 



vulsively embracing his knees while 
returning thanks for the life of 
her only son who had been found 
drunk and unconscious at his post of 

"He was such a good boy," she 
faltered out between her sobs, "until 
he took to drinking," 

The President led the woman to 
the door and gently dismissed her 
with repeated assurances that he 
would send a telegram reprieving her 
boy. Then, not noticing Tad, he re- 
turned to his desk and sat some time 
in forlorn silence. Then he began 
to murmur — 

"O God, that men should put an 
enemy in their mouths to steal away 
their brains!" 

At last, seeing the lad standing at 



attention in the corner, he burst out: 

u O, Taddie, did you see how much 
that poor, foolish son made his 
mother suffer?" 

Tad bowed. 

"My son, promise me that you will 
never drink wine or liquor of any 
kind. The Bible says, 'Wine is a 
mocker, and strong drink is raging: 
and whosoever is deceived thereby is 
not wise.' I won't ask you to sign a 
pledge but — " here he extended his 
Hand — "give me your hand on it that 
you will never drink." 

Tad solemnly took his father's 
huge hand. The boy's bright eyes 
were also dim. His lips moved, but 
made no sound. 

"Bless you, my son," said the 
father tenderly. "Now, instead of 



putting this down in black and white, 
let's you and I say the Mizpah 
pledge. Taking the Bible, which he 
always kept on his desk, he quickly 
turned to the 49th verse of the 31st 
chapter of Genesis, and tracing the 
words with his long forefinger, he 
read impressively : 

" 'The Lord watch between me and 
thee, when we are absent one from 
another/ " 

"Let's repeat it." 

As they said it over several times 
together, Tad pronounced "absent" 

Observers who saw the smile in the 
President's rugged face as he and 
Tad were driven down Pennsylvania 
Avenue expected to read of a Union 
victory in their papers that night. 



"Keep that pledge, my boy," said 
Abraham Lincoln, "and it will be the 
best act of your life." 

It is Tuesday evening, April the 
11th, just two days after the sur- 
render at Appomattox. The Presi- 
dent has received notice that a crowd 
of Unionists in Washington and 
vicinity are coming to serenade him 
in celebration of the happy time long 
prayed for and sung about — 
"When this cruel war is over!" 
Abraham Lincoln, unwilling to 
trust himself to impromptu speaking 
on such an important occasion, has 
written his "little speech." In the 
household of the Executive Mansion 
there is suppressed excitement very 



like that which prevailed at the out- 
break of the war. When the crowd, 
led by the band, has filled the space 
within speaking range of the North 
Portico, the President, his manu- 
script in one hand and a candle in the 
other, is seen at the open door, about 
to step out, but a hand clutches at the 
shoulder of Tad, who, in uniform as 
usual, is bent on following his father. 
But no one in the crowd, waiting in 
that outer darkness, heard Mrs. Lin- 
coln's cry — "O please don't go out 
there with that light, the enemy will 
be sure to shoot you!" 

Nor did they hear Mr. Lincoln say, 
with a hurt look — 

"No, Mary, no — there is no 
'enemy* now." 

Even in such an hour, Abraham 



Lincoln's mind, for the moment at 
least, dwells more upon his young 
son than on the waiting multitude. 

Noah Brooks, the war correspon- 
dent from California, from his place 
in front of the crowd, describes the 
opening of the last public scene en- 
acted at the White House by Abra- 
ham Lincoln: 

"When Lincoln began to read his 
speech, he held a candle in his left 
hand and the manuscript in his right, 
but becoming embarrassed by the 
difficulty in managing the candle and 
the speech, he made a comical motion 
with his left foot and elbow, which I 
construed to mean that I should hold 
the candle for him, which I did. As 
he read he dropped the slips of manu- 
script in order that 'Little Tad' 



might busy himself by picking them 
up and arranging the pages in the 
right order." 

The President begins to read in 
his clear, high-pitched voice so that 
those in the outskirts of the crowd 
can hear every word: — 

"Fellow Citizens: We meet this 
evening not in sorrow but in glad- 
ness of heart." Then he proceeds to 
apportion the praise due General 
Grant, the army, the navy and all 
who have striven to bring about the 
"consummation devoutly to be 
wished," and to outline plans of re- 
conciliation instead of retribution for 
the South. "Better to hatch the egg 
than smash it," he illustrates in his 
homely way. 

But the white leaves fall too slowly 



for the boy beside him, and Tad keeps 
jerking at the skirt of his father's 
loxxg broadcloth coat, piping up in 
the familiar tone: 

"Gi' me 'nother paper, Papa-day !" 

When the unconscious valedictory 
address is finished, the President 
leaves his two attendants, steps to the 
outer edge of the portico and, peering 
out over the crowd to locate the wait- 
ing band, calls out in his winning 

"Play 'Dime/ boys? — Give us 

A gasp from the multitude as one 
man is the first response to such a 
startling appeal. The men of the 
band stare, stupefied. It strikes them 
as dumb as if the President in the 
Palace of the Elysee in Paris were 



demanding that a French band on 
Armistice Day should render "The 
Watch on the Rhine," or "Deutsch- 
land Ueber Alles!" 

Abraham Lincoln stands there 
eager, expectant, smiling. The still- 
ness is broken by a sullen voice, mut- 
tering, "Don't know it!" 

"Guess I can play it," says a young 
fifer, after a long, tense silence. He 
begins in a breathless quaver as if to 
see if he can follow it through. No 
one stops him and, one by one, the 
other instruments join in, so that by 
the time the chorus is reached, not 
only is the whole band playing 
spiritedly, but most of the crowd are 
joining in the grand chorus — 

"Look away! Look away down 
South in Dixie!" 

[ 44] 


With a smile of triumph Father 
Abraham turns to enter the Mansion. 
The deep meaning of this moment is 
lost even upon Noah Brooks, the war 
correspondent, and a jubilee of years 
has to pass before any one observes 
that this was the last message of 
Abraham Lincoln to his beloved 
people ! 

Even Noah Brooks, oblivious of 
this immortal moment, goes on to tell 
what happened next: 

"When the President turned to 
thank me for holding the candle to 
him, he said: 'That was a fair speech, 
I think, but you threw some light on 
it. 5 " 

Meanwhile, what had become of 
"the Child of the Nation"? Brooks 
goes on to relate: 



"There was an uproar outside. 
'Little Tad,' then about eleven years 
old, delirious with the excitement of 
the crowd and the fireworks, had 
seized a captured Rebel flag which 
had been given him, and leaning as 
far out of an upper window as possi- 
ble, was waving it with might and 
main to the wonderment and delight 
(and disgust!) of the crowd beneath. 
At that moment, old Thomas, the 
faithful doorkeeper, in great con- 
sternation, seized the lad by the 
ample portion of his trousers, and 
plucked him from the windowsill. 
Howling with anger, he fled to his 

The President was standing in the 
East Room conversing with a 
jubilant member of Congress when 



Tad came roaring in and began to 
climb up his father's lank figure as 
if it were a tree. Mr. Lincoln slowly 
stooped and, with a commiserating 
glance, soothed his son's injured self- 

The waving of the "Southern 
Cross" from a White House window 
offended a number of spectators. 

"That's carry in' this thing a leetle 
too fur!" protested a raucous voice 
outside. "You'd think 'twas General 
Grant that was a-doin' the surren- 

"That boy'd git a good sound 
spankin' if he was my son," shrilly 
announced a woman near a north 
window of the East Room. 

Mr. Lincoln, "with charity for all" 
dissenting opinions, smiled as he said 



to the congratulating Congressman: 

"My boy's like some men I know. 

Jest give 'em a (h) inch and they take 

a (h)ell!" 

$ $ $ $ $ 

Good Friday was a lovely Spring 
day. The leaves were beginning to 
show pale green on the dark branches 
of the trees lined down to the vista of 
the Potomac. The foliage of the 
Forsythia was flaming yellow, and 
the Judas tree blossomed out full. 

Captain Robert Lincoln, not long 
out of Harvard, had arrived in the 
night from the front, where he had 
been a member of General Grant's 
staff. It was a happy family that 
met around the White House break- 
fast table that morning. "Bob" had 
been an eye witness of the ceremony 



of the Sunday before — Palm Sunday 
it was — at Appomattox. He took 
out of his carpetbag a photograph of 
General Lee to show his father. 

The President mused while gazing 
upon the face of the Confederate 

"It is the face of a noble, noble 
brave man/' he said. "I jings, but 
I'm glad this terrible war is over!" 

Mrs. Lincoln sighed, "I wish you 
were sure of that." 

"Mother," said her tall husband, 
trying to rally her spirits: "That re- 
minds me of my dream last night, 
the same one I dreamed just before 
Gettysburg — and you remember 
what 'a change came over the spirit 
of my dreams' then? Cheer up, 
Mary, 'the best is yet to be.' " 



Turning to Bob, he began to plan 
the older son's future as a lawyer. 
Then, noticing Tad's wistful face, he 
said in a rallying tone — 

"Well, Taddie, what are you going 
to be?" 

"I d'no'," said the boy— "I ain't 
goin' to drink, though." 

The rest laughed, but Mr. Lin- 
coln, seeing that this touched Tad's 
sensitive nature, remarked with an 
air of mystery — 

" Taddie and I have a secret that 
we don't tell, do we?" 

The lad's face lighted up with a 
gleam of gratitude. 

4|g. £jt 3|g. $f. 3|£ 

No one knew where Tad had been 
the night of the White House 
tragedy, but the old doorkeeper re- 



lates that it was after midnight when 
he came up the basement stairway 
moaning, "Tom Pen, Tom Pen, 
they've killed Papa-day! They've 
killed my Papa-day!" 

While Major John Hay, one of 
the President's private secretaries, 
was doing his utmost to restore order 
to that frantic household, one of the 
lifeguard lay down beside the weep- 
ing boy and tried to soothe and com- 
fort him so that he might sleep a 

As his occupation was gone with 
the life of the President, this guard 
was instructed to look after Tad 
through the turmoil of those terrible 
days and nights. The boy's anguish 
was truly pitiable. He would 
wander about in the great, empty 



rooms, as if searching for some one. 
During the long, troubled nights the 
sense of his unutterable forlornness 
invaded his dreams. "Papa-day," 
he would murmur, "where's Papa- 

"Your papa's gone," said the life- 
guard hoarsely — "gone to Heaven." 

The boy's eyes opened wide. 

"Do you think he's happy there?" 

"Yes, Taddie, yes, indeed. I'm 
sure of that! We know he's happy 
in Heaven. Now, go to sleep." 

"O, I'm glad!— glad!" sighed the 
lad. "Papa-day never was happy 
after we came here!" 

They brought Mrs. Lincoln home 
in a state of collapse from the house 
where her husband died. The only 
wonder is that the horrible scene in 



which she had been chief sufferer did 
not bereave her entirely of reason. 
During the days which followed, 
whenever she gave way, in spite of 
herself, to paroxysms of grief, Tad 
would look up in helpless terror and 
plead — 

"Don't cry so, Mamma — you'll 
break my heart!" 

Then the brain-broken mother 
would crush her boy to her heart in 
a passionate embrace, cover his up- 
turned face with tears and kisses, and 
for his sake, summon all the resolu- 
tion she could command. But the 
terrific strain was too great for her 
sensitive spirit, and she lay in her 
room in the White House utterly 
prostrated for months. 



Five years later, a little woman in 
deep mourning was seen walking out, 
in Frankfort, Germany, her black- 
gloved hand on the arm of a stalwart 

"There go the widow and son of 
President Lincoln. She is here for 
the waters." 

Tad was doing intensive work in a 
private school, mastering the impedi- 
ment in his speech while learning the 
German language. Among the 
friends he found in that foreign land 
were two young girls — one, Alice, the 
daughter of Doctor Brown, an 
American dentist practising in 
Frankfort, and the other, little Alix, 
daughter of Princess Alice, now of 
Hesse, the favorite daughter of 
Queen Victoria of Great Britain. 



Tad was so devoted to Alice 
Brown that the attentions of Prin- 
cess Alix sometimes tried even his 
patience. But he had inherited so 
much of his father's kindness of heart 
that he constantly tried not to let the 
little princess know of his preference 
for the dentist's daughter. In token 
of this tact and considerateness, he 
would invite Miss Brown to go skat- 
ing with him on the little lake. Then 
he and Alice would push Princess 
Alix, luxuriously wrapped in furs, 
before them in a Russian sleigh. The 
happy little girl would turn her dark 
eyes gratefully upward and smile 
back at the son of the martyr Presi- 
dent, as if unaware of any other 

In their turns about the lake Tad 



would watch for his mother as she 
moved about on the bank looking 
down on the happiness of all the 
young people there. Once, as they 
skated westward, they observed the 
President's widow, in full mourning 
costume, silhouetted against the red 
sunset sky. 

Of course, no one there was gifted 
with second sight so as to blend the 
aftermath of the tragedy of the 
greatest American republic with the 
fateful foregleams of the downfall 
of the greatest of European despot- 
isms. Nor did that dark figure in the 
lurid afterglow suggest the coming of 
a Reign of Terror in which the lives 
of little AEx, as Empress Alexandra, 
and her husband, the Czar of All the 
Russias, with their children, were to 



pay even fiercer forfeit than the terri- 
ble deaths of Louis the Sixteenth and 
Marie Antoinette in the Red Revolu- 
tion of France. 

As if by the bitter irony of fate, 
the Lincolns, who came to drink 
health in German waters, remained 
to find only death in them. This was 
because of Tad Lincoln's signal 
loyalty to the vow he had made with 
his father. When the people of 
Frankfort were warned that it was 
dangerous to drink the common 
water of the town, it was a simple 
thing for everyone else to avoid the 
risk by using other beverages — beer, 
light wines and even stronger liquors. 
But in spite of doctors' cautions and 
his mother's pleadings, Tad only 
shook his head and smiled. 



When Mrs. Lincoln was in despair 
in her frantic attempts to make her 
big boy listen to reason, she was 
forced to leave Germany by the sud- 
den declaration of war between 
France and Germany. So the widow 
of President Lincoln and her son 
took passage on the last boat going 
down the Rhine before the ports of 
Germany were closed for the Franco- 
Prussian War. 

The fugitives sojourned a while in 
England, but Tad seemed more list- 
less and ailing as the weeks went by. 
So the devoted mother made haste to 
return to America where her boy 
could be under the care of a favorite 
Chicago physician. When they 
reached home Tad was declared criti- 
cally ill of typhoid fever. He soon 



became unconscious and was often 
delirious. Even in his delirium those 
who had known him were surprised 
at the improvement in his articula- 
tion* Yet when he seemed to be liv- 
ing over the scenes of his life in the 
White House he lapsed into his 
earlier habit of speech. 

"Papa-day," he would murmur — 
"I'm tired of playing by myhelf — I 
want to play together." 

At another time he chuckled as if 
he were again riding "pickaback" — 
exclaiming, "Papa-day! oh — Papa- 

One morning, after a long silence, 
he repeated slowly: 

"The Lord watch between me and 
thee while we are ab-hunt one from 



There was a pause and he cor- 
rected — 

"While we are absent one from 
another/ 5 

Then he seemed to be listening, and 
his wan features were lighted by a 
celestial smile, as he joyously burst 

u 'Absent?' No — present! Here! 
here! Papa-day!" and Tad Lincoln's 
face beamed with joy ineffable as he 
sprang again into his great play- 
fellow's arms — 

"O my Papa-day!" 





The Road to 
A Loving Heart 

compiled by 
Helen M. Winslow 

Here is a companionable little 
volume made up of verses and 
prose selections from recent peri- 
odicals and books. There are 
poems by such well-known writers 
as Herman Hagedorn, John Oxen- 
ham, Edgar A. Guest, Ella 
Wheeler Wilcox, as well as many 
fugitive pieces by lesser known 
writers — pieces, however, that 
have a gem of thought, the per- 
fect expression of an idea, or a 
moment of penetrating vision. 

The material in this book is 
especially adapted to the person 
who has but a few minutes now 
and then for inspirational read- 
ing. It is a book for those who 
would acquire success in their 
undertakings, happiness in life, 
and depth of personality and 

16mo. decorated boards, net 75c 
16mo. cloth, net $1.00 

George Sully & Company 


114 East 25th St. New York 

Keep Smiling 

By Joseph Craigen. 

"Keep Smiling" is a book with a real message, written 
by one who is well known for his lectures on Applied and 
Practical Psychology. 

The spirit of "Keep Smiling" is one of Cheer, Happi- 
ness, Courage, Health and ptimism, and will inspire one 
to do things. 

It is written in a straight-forward manner, as one friend 
would talk to another, and will become a "close friend" to 
many in need of cheer, courage and the spirit to go ahead. 

Such a book is indeed welcome, for all men and women 
can afford to learn to smile — and Keep Smiling. 

16mo. decorated boards, net, .75 
16mo. cloth net, 1.00 

Gems from the Classics 

Selected by Albert E. Padden. 

It would be a mistake to think of this book as a mere collection 
of quotations. True, it is made up of "gems" from many great minds, 
but these selections are unified into a composite whole by their under- 
lying moral and spiritual value. 

They were gathered much like bees gather honey, a little here, 
and a little there. They were picked from the flower of best thought 
and contain only that which is good. Emerson says, "A certain 
awkwardness marks the use of borrowing thoughts, but as soon as 
we learn what to do with them, they become our own." We shall 
do well if we ponder these thoughts daily, and make them our own. 
They, indeed, express such a noble philosophy of life that we should 
do more than know them — we should live them. 

16mo. decorated boards. .. .net, .75 
16mo. cloth, gilt top net, $1.00 

George Sully & Company 

114 East 25th Street New York